Nine million had slumbered beneath Perfugium. We had saved fewer than one in thirty, though the Emperor was one. But Perfugium was no victory. I saw reports later, heard stories, of how the Cielcin had cracked open the catacombs behind us, of the millions drained of cryonic fluid, killed, and hung upon the walls of Resonno. Attavaisa was dead, but Hushansa’s men feasted on all of those we could not save.
